To Where Dreams May Come
by Le Soda Noir
Summary: Fic Rewritten. AU. In a world without any magic, Harry Potter is studying in St. Brutus' college for criminal boys. But when Hermione Granger breaks into his life, his world is torn apart.
1. The Beginning

**Author's Note: **So here I am again, after saying proudly, on my Livejournal, that I would never ever write fics again and that I would never ever write on this site again... I'm back, posting a new version of my story "MAKE ME BREATHE AGAIN". It's not very well known, it only had two chapters when I stopped. It's been written in french too where it had quite a success. I decided to continue the fic in both languages when fresh ideas came to me suddenly. So, I'm french, I speak and write pretty well in english, but still, there's bound to be a couple of mistakes in this, so don't be too hard on me. It's not my first fic, I deleted my others because of a simple lost of interest. Please leave reviews. I love it! And also, the story is available on this website in french under the title "LÀ OU LES RÊVES S'ENVOLENT". Have a good read. For more information, view my profile shortly.

**To Where Dreams May Come.**

**Chapter 1**

That morning, Harry woke up with a start. He was certain he heard gunshots. They'd been haunting his every nightmares for two years now. His hair was soaked with sweat, his t-shirt stuck to his skin and his heart pounded so fast anyone would have thought he just ran a mile

He'd just opened his eyes and was already up, caught in panic. The young man looked around, but his vision blurred and he thought he was going to faint when he saw the dorm darken before his eyes. A wave of nausea filled him suddenly and he fell hard to the ground. Then he knew, this day wasn't going to be so pleasant after all.

Forehead against the ground, his hair dripping on the floor, Harry noticed, for the first time, the deep pain running through his skull, mixing with the beating of his heart. He could hear whispers all around and soon, footsteps coming towards him. The vibrations on the floor, as light as they were, seemed to increase his pain. He raised his head lightly and saw, a bit more clearly, a pair of feet near his right shoulder. Then two hands, belonging to the owner of the feet, gripped his shoulders tightly to help him stand up.

"You alright, mate?"

Harry found himself gazing into Marx's worried face and felt a bit relieved. It had been a dream. Nothing more. Everything was okay now. It was all over.

Carefully, he sat down on his bed and took deep breaths, just like Clara showed him. Then, he slowly felt his heart and vision come back to normal.

"You want me to get Madam Pomfrey or maybe Miss Craig?" asked his friend, concerned.

Harry frowned.

"I'm alright. Stop treating me like a fucking baby!" he snapped, breathing more easily now.

"Gosh... sorry," said the other. "I'm worried about you, that's all. I just wanna help."

Harry smiled lightly, apologizing, then laid back on his bed, trying to ignore the mutters coming from his other roomates and the noises from the hallway. Sighing, he turned his head away, staring at the small barred window next to his bed.

He would've given anything to leave this place.

- - -

His friend was acting weird these days, Marx decided at lunch. He was so distant and often had nightmares. They should have stopped by now. Marx thought they had stopped. But he should have known better. Nothing was ever over. As long as they'd be here, nothing would stop. Memories would haunt them. It was like that, and he didn't think there was anything they coud do about it.

Harry was sitting here, in front of him, pushing the tip of his fork in his plate, moving the food around, making horrible scratching noises. He hadn't eaten anything yet and Marx knew he wouldn't. This morning had been just awful. It was often the case.

Ever since they'd came back to school, bad luck had followed Harry everywhere he went. He now collected detentions, was forbidden to go out, teachers seemed to yell at him even more and Marx was sure it did nothing to make his friend feel better. Harry seemed completely depressed. It was the worst state he'd even seen him in. His mood changed dramatically. One minute he was horribly sad, the other he almost blew up with rage. Marx could have bet all this had to do with the fact that Harry went to spend the summer with his aunt and uncle this year. He hadn't stepped foot in their house for years and even if Harry rarely talked about his family, his friend knew their relationship wasn't any good. In fact, it was even worse than the one he had with his own family. And that was saying something. Harry was a very strong person, but he was easy to reach when you knew his weaknesses and Marx was sure that, after all the years he spent with them, the Dursleys knew his weaknesses perfectly.

Marx sighed when he saw Karl Morgan coming their way. Now, it couldn't be worse. The smirk he saw on the newcomer's face told him that, indeed, Will, one of their roomates, once again told everyone about what happened in the dorm this morning. Everything happened pretty quickly then.

"Hey, Potter! Heard you had bad dreams last night!"

Marx winced and heard Harry let out a rage-filled breath.

"Fuck off, Morgan. Mind your business," Marx said calmly, hoping everything would end right there.

But he knew very well it wasn't gonna be that simple.

Karl Morgan threw him a disgusted glare.

"Mind your business yourself, Xan. I'm talking to Potter. Heard he woke up the whole dorm this morning. What was it this time? Little Harry had a big bad wet dream!" He laughed cruelly. "Or is it just bad memories!" He then took a high-pitched voice and rose his arms in the air. "Noooo! ARRRRRGGHHHH! No, please! I don't wanna die!"

He quickly caught the attention of all the other students with this bad impersonation of Harry and a few people started laughing.

"No! Marx, save me! Arrrrrggghhh! Please, Mommy!..." He stopped for a second then..."Ah crap... you don't have one, Potter..."

"Fuck. Off. Karl." said Marx, detaching every word to make himself clear.

"What's wrong Potter? Can't stand up for yourself? Need your little boyfriend! Always knew you two had a thing..."

He was stopped mid-sentence by Harry's fist on his jaw.

- - -

When the young man entered Carla's office, he was in a terrible mood. His hair wild, and cheeks flushed, eyes flashing with anger and his shirt's sleeves rolled up, he glared at her furiously. She kept her ground and calmly told him to sit down, pointing at the leather armchair facing her. Surprisingly, he did as he was told, all the while swiftly untying his black tie with particularly talented fingers. Glancing at the school psychologist, he made a weird face that she recognizes as his interpretation of a smile.

The 32-yeard-old woman finally put her pen down on her desk and looked at the newcomer.

"So, Harry, tell me what happened this time."

He told her the whole story, like he did so many times before. Harry was very patient, but these days, he seemed completely unbalanced. A simple spark would cause him to explode like some kind of nuclear bomb. Even when he wasn't directly provoked, he reacted. The 16-year-old simply stood up for what was right, and insulting others in front of him wasn't something very wise. When he didn't like someone's behavior towards another, he always let the person know. This would have been very good for him, if only he didn't choose to do it the hard way.

It was never the same story, but Karl Morgan was always in the midst of it. So Clara wasn't surprise to hear his name at the very beginning. Karl was new in school this year and ever since he stepped foot in the building, it was war between Harry and him. It almost seemed like they were fighting over the school. If Harry had an ego, it was nothing compared to Karl's. He seemed convinced he was the king of the whole world. Clara had met him. She always met with the students before their acceptance to evalute their case and open a file, so she knew almost everyone. And even if she was too nice to admit it, she really didn't like her meeting with Karl. He was selfish and arrogant and she wasn't very proud of it, but in a way, she was glad Harry was there to put him in his place.

Martin Xan was also included in the story. The boy, whom everyone called Marx, was Harry's very best friend. They both were in St. Brutus' since age eleven and were relying entirely on the other. They were always together but Marx rarely took part in Harry's fights, most usually trying to break them down but never really succeeding. Energy and strenght, Harry had plenty.

Harry came to Carla's office very often and she surprisingly took a liking to the young man. As insensitive as he could sometimes seem, he was in fact, very nice, interesting, fun-loving and charming. He simply had his bad days, like anyone else, and a reputation to maintain. In St. Brutus', you had to look tough is you wanted to make it.

He was also one of the few students who stayed at school during summer holidays. There were no classes at that time of the year, but the school was transformed in some kind of camp for children whose parents couldn't afford an all-year attendance. All that spare time, Harry spent it mostly in the library, reading everything he could put his hands on and waiting for the school year to start again so that he could see Marx, who always spent his summer with his mother and Ben, his step-father, in their small appartment in downtown London.

The step-father was the main reason for Marx's presence in St. Brutus'. He had been particularly insistent on sending his new wife's son in the private school for criminal boys. He probably through that the best way to spend time with his 'sweet love' was to get rid of her son. Completetly blinded by her new love, Marx's mother had almost forgotten the very existence of her own son. Like Marx said himself, his mom was always "either drunk, stoned, or fucking Ben. Pretty often, it's all three."

And Harry? All he had left were an aunt, an uncle and a cousin living in Surrey. His parents died when he was about a year old, making him an orphan. Harry knew absolutely nothing about them and his aunt and uncle always refused to tell him even a single detail. After Harry's first year, they made it clear they never wanted to have him in their house again and Harry was totally okay with it. But this year, Clara had that "brilliant" idea and convinced them to take Harry in, only for the summer. She thought maybe it could help him with his problems. But, according to Marx, it was a fiasco. "People like that never change." Harry's vacation was nothing but a succession of fights and yelling matches and it almost drove him mad. Luckily, Harry had art and music. They always saved him. However, Clara was incredibly sorry for her mistake but she knew the last thing Harry wanted was to talk about it. She never apologized, respecting his need to forget and acted like she didn't know anything went wrong. Harry was an excellent liar, really, but with her, his facade rarely worked. She could read him like an open book.

The story had been told and Harry stopped talking. Clara looked at him for a moment then stood up. She sat on the desk, right in front of him and took his chin in her hands, forcing him to look at her. She searched the young man's face for a few secondes and found what she was looking for: a black eye quickly forming on the right side of his face.

"Where's Karl?"

"Infirmery," Harry answered.

Clara let go of his face then sighed, shaking her head.

"You are impossible!" she said, desperately. "When is it going to stop?"

"He started it! He even insulted Marx this time," Harry protested, leaning back into the armchair.

The psychologist narrowed her eyes.

"You pretty well know that Marx is perfectly able to defend himself properly! You need to learn to contain yourself, Harry," she said, much more calmly.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"And how do I do that?"

Carla shrugged, then sighed.

"When you feel like you're going to do something crazy, just... walk away. Do something else. Find something you like to do, something that can help you calm down. Or do anything you want, but please... try to just relax. And hit something else than a student for once. I got you out of trouble many times, Harry, but I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up. If you don't want to loose everything, please try, at least, to control your anger. You like basketball, don't you?"

Harry looked at her briefly, then stared at his feet. The psychologist smiled sadly.

"You wouldn't want to be kick out of the team, right?"

Harry slowly raised his head and shot her a negative glare. She was right. Again.

"Okay. I guess I'll try," he growled.

Clara stood up, smiling happily.

"That's better! Now you get out or you'll be late for 3rd period."

Harry sighed.

"Chemistry. Can't you keep me a little longer?"

Clara burst out laughing and sat back in her chair.

"No way. Professor Snape would be so disappointed if you didn't show up."

Harry frowned.

"Disappointed because he couldn't make me suffer."

He stood up and walked to the door.

"And Harry?"

He turned back, sighing.

"What?"

"Come back if you need anything. Anything at all. Just to talk or..."

"I know. Bye," he said, dryly.

The door opened and Clara heard the noises and voices of students in the hallway and then closed again behind the young man. Clara Craig did her best to ignore the burning in her throat and went back to work. She often thought that, maybe, she was too sensitive for this job.

- - -

When Harry closed the door behind him, he felt worse, if it was possible. Sighing with rage, he took off towards his dorm.

He couldn't figure out why they would want to kick him out of the basketball team. He only wanted to defend his best friend... and himself for that matter. Sure, he had plenty of other friends, but none like Marx. They knew each other since the very first day of their very first year in St. Brutus, the others only arrived a bit later. They were always together and told each other absolutely everything, even though they were very different. Anyways, Harry thought with a satisfied smiled, they would never kick him out of the team, he was the best player and everyone knew it. Without him, it just wouldn't be the same.

The hallways were crowded with students waiting for the bell announcing the first class of the afternoon. Harry quickly made his way through the crowd and took the hallway leading to the student dorms. He took the stairs up to the second floor and stopped in front of room number 38. But instead of opening the door, he put his ear against it to listen what was going on inside.

"So, what d'you think's gonna happen? Is he gonna be kicked out?" asked the anxious voice of Darren Andrews, whom everyone called 'Drew'.

"Nah, don't think so," said Marx simply.

"Maybe you should've gone with him to see the psycho lady," said Drew again. "Tell her it wasn't his fault..."

Marx laughed.

"C'mon, Drew. Harry's old enough to take care of himself."

Harry smiled against the door, ignoring a group of fourth years that passed him, shooting weird looks in his direction.

"All that wouldn't have happened if Carter here knew how to close the enormous sack of shit he uses as a mouth," Drew growled.

"What ya said, Andrews?" asked Will Carter's deep voice

"You heard what I said, Carter. Or maybe the watermelon seed replacing your brain didn't register all the words? Give Harry a break, and stop telling every single thing happening in here to the first one to fucking walk by."

"Go fuck ya'self, Andrews! I say what I want, when I want and there ain't no little fucker that's gonna order me 'round... 'specially not ya!" Will said.

"Oh yeah? C'mon! C'mon, hit me! C'mon! Hit me!" Drew's voice echoed throught the room.

"Guys. Stop it." Marx said calmly.

Marx was always the one to put things straight. He was the voice of reason. Harry could see his calm and serious face in his head.

"Just like I said, it's not use fighting. Drew, Harry's not gonna be kicked out. Miss Craig's always on his side..."

Drew interrupted him.

"This time, I'm sure it's over. Carter fucked it all up. Have you seen Morgan's face. Beat him up like hell! Bet you Harry's gonna be kicked out and the basket team'll be fucking ruined."

There was a long silence only broken by Will's startled voice.

"What?"

"You don't know what you're saying," said Marx, laughing. "We're in a school for criminals, Drew. You need more than a simple fight to get kicked out..."

But his words were left unheard.

"Obviously you're too much of an imbecile to think before you act," Drew said to Will, irritated. "If Harry gets kicked out of school, which would be entirely your fault, he won't play basket with us anymore, you twit. And our team'll surely take the worst fucking beating of the history. We play against MacKenzie in a week and you know that without Potter, we're fucking dead."

Harry thought it was a great moment to stop by. He opened the door violently and entered the room.

His sudden intrusion was startling. On the other side of the room, Marx was half-laying on his bed, holding a sports magazine he was probably reading about a few secondes ago.

Marx had always been very tall. He as now quite close to six feet, which sometimes made Harry look almost ridiculous beside him. At about five feet seven, he was the smallest of the group. Marx's pale brown hair was messily spiked and his metallic blue eyes often showed a strange twinkle, like he was constantly amused by what happened around. He was staring at Harry, a bit startled, with a small lop-sided grin on his face.

In the middle of the room stood Drew and Will whom, Harry guessed, had been ready to strangle each other before he entered.

Will was tall and black, and could be described in one word. Muscles. Even thought he was very imposing, many people still made fun of him because of his fiery temper. Will always shaved his head. It was now his trademark. And another thing about Will Carter. He couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Then there was Drew. The clown. He had a neverending ressource of jokes, weird expressions and entertaining insults. However, he was very secretive about himself and the reason he ended up in St. Brutus was unknown even by his closest friends, who happened to be Harry and Marx. Drew was Will's complete opposite. His hair was as blonde as in shampoo commercials and few people ever saw him without his famous shades. You could easily think they were a part of his face.

Harry broke the silence.

"Don't worry, I won't stay long. Just coming to get my books. Don't wanna bother you."

Harry walked to his corner of the dorm and took his book bag lying on the floor. He caught his Chemistry book on his desk and put on the traditional black blazer with the school crest on the pocket. He rearranged his tie and turned back to the others.

"So... how long've ya been there?" Will asked.

Harry just shook his head.

Will stayed silent, looking at his feet, while Marx, eyebrow raised, waited for something to happen. Drew did his best not to laugh. Finally, Will mumbled:

"I'm... I'm sor... I shouldn've told that to..."

Harry frowned before leaving the room suddenly.

"You do what you want, Carter. But you stay the fuck away from me, got it?"

Again, silence filled the room. A few seconds later, Marx spoke:

"I'll go talk to him."

He stood up, took his books and left the room.

"You're small, man. You're damn small," Drew said the Will before following his friend.

- - -

The bell rang just as Harry walked by. Furious, he swore and shook his head. Then, he heard hurrying footsteps behind him and stopped to wait for Marx and Drew.

"You alright?" asked Marx.

Harry said nothing. He thought it was best to keep silent. Better than admitting something was incredibly, incredibly wrong. He made his way towards the Chemistry classroom.

"Look, I know what you think and you're right. I'd feel the same if I were you, but please, don't do anything stupid..."

Harry laughed bitterly.

"So now you pretend that you can read my mind or what?"

They stopped in the middle of the hallway, blocking the way of many frustrated students.

"Harry," Marx said simply, with a deserate stare. "I never meant to say... Please, don't start that, please..."

"Start WHAT?"

He raised his voice a bit too much and everything stopped. But loud footsteps were heard coming from the corner of the hallway and all the students quickly left the spot when they saw a famous silhouette coming their way.

Walking quickly towards them, greasy-black haired and yellow-faced, was Professor Snape. He wore the traditional three piece teacher's "uniform" under a long black coat that put the final touch on his vampiric allure. For that reason, many students called him "Nosferatu". When he saw Harry, Marx and Drew, he stopped sharp.

"What are you three up to? he asked suspiciously.

The others students seemed relieved that Snape ignored them. They all hated him and he returned it. But it was well known, Professor Snape mainly liked torturing Harry Potter. It had been this way since the very first day.

Snape's gaze was fixed on Harry.

"You're not saying anything, Potter? I asked you a question? Oh, but I know very well what this is all about! One fight a day is not enough for you, is that it? Your ego's not satisfied yet? Maybe starting a rumble right in the middle of the main corridor would favour your... reputation, but not your school file."

"You're nothing but a..."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Did I give you permission to speak, Potter? Perhaps it would be better for you not to say what you were planning on saying. Now, you three, hurry up and get in class. I won't tolerate any of you being late in my class. Especially not you, Potter."

He left, walking swiftly towards his classroom, his long coat floating behind him. Drew made a disgusted face but it quickly disappeared when Snape turned around.

"What are you waiting for?" he said between gritted teeth.

And he disappeared in the Chemistry lab.

The classroom was pretty big. It had two large windows on the left wall, which was quite awkward really since a sunny classroom did not seem to make Snape any nicer. Despite the normality of Snape's classroom, students quickly related to it as the "Torture Chamber". The room counted tree large blackboards: the first in the front, just behind Snape's desk, and the other two, smaller, were placed on the right wall, opposite the windows. The back of the room was occupied by a huge periodic board and all other weird posters of important scientific men. Atoms made of wood balls and plastic rings were rotating over their heads and there was a door in the back that led to the "real" lab, where all the experiences took place. It was a shame, really, that Snape didn't trust them at all and they rarely set foot in that interesting place.

Harry took his usual seat, the second desk from the back in the row on the left, just beside the window. Marx sat next to him, like he always did, and Will, behind. He was forced to sit in the back because of his massive shoulders. Drew grinned at Harry and took the seat nearest to his friends, beside Neville Longbottom, who was in the dorm next to theirs.

The bell rang again and Snape kicked the door violently before a late student that was in the process of entering the room. The guy stood there for a minute, surprised, then turned around and walked away. All the students knew pretty well that if they arrived after the second bell, they'd be stuck outside. You were late to Snape's class? You stayed outside. No one was about to contradict that. For that reason, a few students were very glad to be late in Chemistry class.

One of the students in the front row bursted out laughing when he saw the look on the guy's face, but Snape took hold of a wooden ruler and violently hit the said student's desk to shut him up. Many classmates jumped, and the classroom was silent. Snape smirked in victory, and firmly set the ruler back on his desk. He then elegantly opened his Chemistry book.

"Open your book to chapter one, we will continue last year's revision. Today, we well see Lewis Structures. Maybe one of you thinks himself more brilliant than me and would like to try and explain what Lewis Structures are for?" he asked, with an evil glare.

Silence. Harry opened his book. He knew the answer pretty well, but it was no use answering. He didn't want to get more attention from Snape than necessary. He stopped dead when he saw that Neville, who was sitting before Marx, had raised his hand, a small smile on his lips. Harry winced when Snape glared at him.

"Mr Longbottom," he said in a soft but dangerous voice, "if you think you're so intelligent that you can answer this question, speak now. If not, think about it before humilitating yourself."

Neville lost his smile.

"I'm waiting. Answer!"

"Lewis Structures... it's... huh... to show the... the valence electrons that..."

Snape, who was walking between rows of students, stopped abruptly before Neville.

"Enough, Mr Longbottom. I would suggest, since you seem unable to express yourself properly, that you shut up now."

Harry saw Drew flinching. Then his friend said, simply:

"Come on, Nosferatu. Can't blame the guy for not being able to speak, you smell so much we're choking here!"

There was a tense silence, then the room erupted in hysterical and mocking laughter. Three violent noises echoed throught the room and it was silent again. Harry raised his head and saw Snape, furious, holding that ruler again just like he would with a sword.

"Shut up! All of you!" he said, trying desperately to stay calm. "I won't tolertae this in my class, understand?"

Nobody dared speaking now. It was complete silence. The only thing Harry heard was the soft laughter coming from Drew. He seemed pleased with himself.

"ANDREWS!" screamed the teacher. "I SAID 'SHUT UP'!"

Drew stopped laughing, even though his shoulders were still shaking. Harry shook his head, a small smile on his lips. Snape took deep breaths then pointed towards the door.

"Andrews, out!"

Drew did not think necessary to protest. He took his things and left the room. But when the door closed behind him, they could all hear his joyful laughter as he walked away.

"Now I don't want to hear a thing!" growled Snape between his teeth.

He was silent for a moment, trying to breathe normally, then took a pile of booklets from his desk and gave one to each student.

"Here is your revision work for this chapter. I want them back on my desk on MONDAY, at the beginning of the class WITH your work. No one is to write on these sheets. I want you to write down all the questions and the answers with clear examples and explanations. Get this straight: I want it done on computer, printed on white sheets... I won't want to see anyone printing on lined sheets ever again. Leave spaces for correction. I want the questions in bold and answers in normal text size 12. The examples will be in color red and italic... Only the examples in red, the rest in black...

Snape stopped next to Marx. When Harry saw that he wasn't moving, he raised his head and realized the man was staring at him.

"What?" Harry asked with his gaze met the teacher's.

"Take that thing off of your head, Potter. You very well know it's forbidden in class," he said dangerously.

He was talking about the beanie Harry had put on that morning in the cold of the dormitory. He must have forgotten to take it off. Harry sat straighter and narrowed his eyes.

"No way! It's just a hat, get over it," he said, simply and calmly.

"I said 'take it off'!" said Snape again, through gritted teeth, his face inches away from Harry's.

"I said 'no way'!" replied Harry.

Snape put a booklet in Harry's book than closed it loudly. He took Harry's bookbag from the floor and threw it on the desk. Then, furious, he said:

"Get out, Potter!"

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "Don't get mad, it's just a fucking hat!"

"Watch your language, Potter. Get out!"

Snape continued his distribution of the homeworks, his back to Harry. He stood up and seriously thought about hitting Snape with his Chemistry book, but then he remembered what Clara had said earlier and guessed that attacking a teacher with school material certainly wouldn't do him any good. Finally, he left the room, but not before shooting Snape another angry glare.

When he closed the door, Harry heard mocking laughter coming from behind him. He turned around and saw that disgusting man, Argus Filch, the school's janitor, mopping the floor.

He was an extremely ugly man and his mocking smirk did nothing to help. Harry felt his anger growing. He walked swiftly to the man and, with a powerful kick, he slammed the cart - on which stood a bucket of dirty water - to the floor. It made the tiles' greenish colour look even more disgusting and an horrible smell filled the hallway. A few garbage bags filled with today's food leftovers ripped and their content was quickly spread on the floor. Harry, furious and disgusted, quickly walked away.

"Hey! Little bastard! Come back here!" screamed the janitor, furiously.

Harry turned around and gave him the finger.

"Go fuck yourself!"

Then he walked straight back to the end of the hallway and opened the out-of-order glass door normally used as an emergency exit. He found himself out into the school's cemented backyard and despite October's cold air, he took off his black vest and threw it on an old picnic table, right next to Drew who stared at him, an enormous smile on his face.

"Was kinda wondering who'd join me first, should've guessed it would be you."

Harry said nothing and sat next to his friend.

"In fact, I'm glad it's you. Then I can tell you I beat you, mate. Nosferatu threw me out after five minutes. I've got the record now."

Harry had his first true smile of the day.

"So," Drew said while taking a basket ball out of his bag. "Wanna play?"


	2. Her Arrival

Thanks to all those who left reviews for the first chapter. I really appreciate it.

I had some sort of a dilemma with the rating. At first, I rated it M, but then I thought that maybe it was a little too mush for just a bit of bad language, so I changed to T. It may change again in the future, but for now, T is it.

So, this chapter shows Hermione's point of view.

**In this story, Hermione comes from France, so I thought it would be cool to put a little bit of French in here. I'm french, so it wasn't very difficult. But don't worry, the translations are there, so it's still understandable. Although it's not so bad as she only speaks french when she speaks to her mother (and we don't see her very often) or when she talks to herself (what Hermione doesn't do pretty much because she's a very rational person... lol).**

For those who would like a bigger challenge, the fic is still here, on this site, in the french section. If you would like to read it, that'd be really cool. The chapters are posted at the same time on each version of the fic.

So that's it. I hope you enjoy readint this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. And don't forget to leave reviews!

**To Where Dreams May Come**

**Chapter 2**

Hermione Granger sat silently, staring out the window. The urban landcape passed swiftly before her eyes as the car made its way through the city. She grimaced at the strong smell of smoke that filled the vehicle. London was very different from what she imagined. The air was cold even though it was only the first week of October. Cars were passing by slowly and pedestrians on the sidewalks shouted at careless and impatient drivers. Hermione was almost nauseous. It was hard to bear for her. After all, she'd been living in France's countryside since forever. Hermione glared at her mother.

_"Ne me fais pas ces yeux-là!"_ the woman snapped.

--Don't you look at me like that!--

_"Je déteste cette ville,"_ Hermione muttered.

--I hate this city.--

_"Il faudra bien t'y faire pourtant."_

--You'll have to get used to it.--

Hermione had lost her father six months before. She still couldn't believe it. His death was the reason she was in this situation right now. Her parents, both dentists, had held their own clinic together for years, but after her husband's death, Emma Granger realised she couldn't keep it running all alone. So she found an appartment in Manchester and borrowed money from the bank to open her own clinic downtown. When she told her daughter they were moving, the relationship between the two quickly deteriorated. They never got along well, but now it was so much worse. Hermione and her mother were constantly shouting, they couldn't understand each other. Emma Granger then decided it would be better for them to be seperated. She found a place for Hermione in a London bording all-girls school, St. Mary's Catholic College. She told Hermione it was going to be good for both of them, they could have time to think and rest and maybe when they'd see each other again, things would be better. Hermione doubted that.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice when, outside the car, the landscape started changing. There were no tall buildings now, but only brick walls and empty streets. It almost seemed like a sci-fi movie. Then, suddenly, the bricks turned into metal fences. Hermione blinked and raised her head. On the top of the fence was thick, barbed wires and cameras were set all over the place. Beneath it, she could see a grey-bricked building surrounded by a cemented backyard filled with picnic tables and basketball courts.

_"Qu'est-ce que c'est?"_ Hermione asked her mother, her eyes never leaving the building.

-- What is that? --

_"Comment veux-tu que je le sache?"_

-- How do you want me to know? --

The conversation ended right there. Now the car was passing by the front of the building. The fence was replaced by an elegant portal next to which stood two small cabins probably used by gardians. Hermione watched the scene silently. A large black-stoned staircase led to wooden doors and was divided by silver railings. In front of the building, stood the bronze statue of a man, standing proudly with his hand towards the sky. Three green flags completed the picture, just next to the parking lot on the left. The right part of the building seemed older. The windows were barred.

Next to the road was a black stone plaque on which was written with silver letters: "St. Brutus' Secure Center for Criminal Boys."

When Hermione's eyes left St. Brutus', she noticed that, just on the other side of the street, a low stone garden wall surrounded a big manor. The outside walls were covered with green plants which made it even more mysterious. In front of the mansion was a big marble plaque indicating that this was her new school. St. Mary's Catholic College. Her mother parked the car behind the building and got out, without even looking at her. Hermione sighed, then followed.

_"Maman..."_ she started.

-- Mom...---

_"Hermione, ne recommence pas, on en a déjà assez discuté,"_ she replied suddenly without looking at her.

-- Hermione, don't start that again. We already talked about it. --

Then they were silent for sometime. They unloaded Hermione's luggage from the car and entered her new school, carrying her many suitcases.

The entrace hall was majestic, finely decorated with artistic paintings and sculptures that were probably worth even more than the building itself. Hermione looked around and smiled. She followed her mother to the middle of the hall where stood a mahogany desk behind which sat a woman. She smiled when she saw them. She had long dark hair, big brown eyes and very white teeth that made her smile even more beautiful. She wore a fitting business suit. Hermione smiled at her.

"Hello, I'm Anna. You must be Hermione. The headmistress has been expecting you," she said politely to the newcomers.

"I'm very sorry but I'm quite late," said Hermione's mother, her tone showing she wasn't sorry at all. "I can't stay. I'm sure Hermione will be fine. Good day to you."

Then she left, without even looking at her daughter. Hermione managed to hold back her tears. For a moment, Anna seemed shocked, but her smile quickly came back.

"Follow me, Miss Granger. I will lead you to the headmistress' office. She will be very happy to finally meet you."

- - -

The headmistress, Miss McGonagall, was a severe-looking woman with a friendly smile. She told Hermione everything about the college's history and the establisment's rules, then gave her a brand new school uniform. After a quick visit of the huge manor, she finally showed Hermione her dorm room.

It was a very pretty room that looked incredibly comfortable. There were four four-poster beds and the walls were covered with ancient tapestries. The floor was made of old wood, just like all the furniture in the room and close to every bed was a drawer and a desk with a computer. Hermione sighed with joy. The room screamed of wealth and comfort. There were two tall windows framed by heavy red velvet curtains.

Her suitcases were already there, on the bed she supposed was hers. It was just beside a window. She stepped farther in the room, put her freshly folded uniform on the bedside table and sat down on the bed. It was so comfortable. She smiled again.

On the bed next to hers sat a small brown teddy bear with a cute little red bow around its neck. The wall close to the bed was almost entirely covered with photographs. Hermione stood up to take a closer look. The first one showed a little blond girl blowing her birthday candles and, on the next one, was the same girl, riding a poney. She looked older and older on each photograph, but she always had a wide smile on her face.

There were other pictures on the drawer, but they were framed and all in black and white. Hermione carefully took one in her hands. It showed a small girl - not the same than the one on the other pictures - sitting on a swing in a parc. She wore a white summer dress, her bare feet were burried in the sand below the swings and her long blond hair were flowing elegantly in the wind. She had a sad look on her face. The parc around her was filled with weeds and behind her, was an old, rusted tourniquet and a metal fence amongst climbing plants.

"Hello," said a voice behind Hermione.

She turned suddenly. On the doorstep was the girl of the photographs. She wore the St. Mary's uniform: the white shirt with a blue vest and a short grey skirt. Her blond hair were tied up in a messy poneytail and she was smiling. Hermione smiled back.

"You like photography?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't really know anything about that," said Hermione.

The other girl burst out laughing. She had a strange laugh, almost like sobs. She stepped in the room and closed the door behind her. She approached Hermione and looked at the picture she was still holding.

"Oh, that's my favourite," she said. "I just love all the shadows in the background."

"It's beautiful," Hermione agreed.

The other girl threw a few books on the bed that was obviously hers and sat down.

"I'm Lavander Brown, by the way. Are you Hermione? They told me you were coming."

Hermione put the photograph back on the drawer and went back to her bed to start unpacking.

"Yes, that's me," she said simply.

"You're from France, aren't you? That's where the accent is from..."

"In fact, I was born here, but my parents moved there was I was about two years old. My father inherited his parent's house in the countryside"

Lavander sighed.

"Ah, the countryside. I bet it's really pretty there. I'd like to go someday. There must be so many beautiful places to photograph. But my parents are way too busy to take me. My father's a surgeon, see. I usually spent the holidays with him, but he's very busy with his work. Sometimes, he manages to spent some time with me, but everything's always so complicated when it comes to him."

Hermions smiled.

"I understand. My mother's a dentist. She's always working."

"My mother's always traveling. I rarely ever see her. Haven't seen her for a year now. It's quite surprising that my parents are still together. Well, I think they are. It's quite weird. When my mother comes home for the holidays, it's like she's some kind of stranger. I think they communicate by internet."

"It must be weird, really," said Hermione putting clothes in a drawer.

There was a moment of silence, then...

"But I have to admit that I'd like that if my mother was never home. We don't really get along."

Lavander sighed.

"Oh, don't worry, I don't get along with mine either."

The two girls smiled at each other.

"Need help unpacking? Looks like those suitcases are quite full," she said, watching the luggage on the bed.

"Yes, thank you. And the other beds, whom does they belong to?"

"Oh, the one over there is Pansy's," answered Lavander, pointing to the bed on the other side of the room. "That girl is a complete nightmare, trust me. I had to share the dorm alone with her for some time and let me tell you, it wasn't funny at all. I think she was born only to make my life miserable. She does it on purpose, really. It's like she's some kind of parasite," she continued, unpacking one of Hermione's suitcases.

"Is she really that horrible?" laughed Hermione.

"Oh yes, she is. I've known her since forever. We're neighbours. On top of that, her father works with my dad and those two... they're rivals, really. She thinks she's better than everyone. Better than me, mostly. I'm so glad you're here. Now I won't be alone with the witch..."

"The witch?" Hermione repeated, laughing hard.

"The witch, that's how everyone calls Pansy behind her back. And there's the troll too, well that's Millicient. She's Pansy's sidekick. Well, whatever, the other bed belongs to Luna. She's okay, though. A bit weird, but very smart. She skipped a grade. However, I think you'll like her."

"That's good," said Hermione, smiling.

She opened the third suitcase and took out a small mirror that she carefully put on her drawer. She looked at her reflection briefly. Her features were soft and delicate, her long brown hair fell in elegant curls on her shoulders and her pale chocolate brown eyes seemed almost gold with the light coming through the window.

Lavander got a black leather binder out of a suitcase

"Is that for school?" she asked, opening it to look inside.

Hermione gasped and jerked her hand to grab the book, but it was too late.

_"Ne regarde pas!"_

--Don't look!--

"Woah!"

Hermione sighed. Now that Lavander had seen it all, it was no use hiding it.

"Tell me you didn't make those!" said Lavander, admiring.

"Well, in fact, I did," replied Hermione, blushing lightly. "It's a hobby, I guess. Usually, I don't show them to anybody, but now that you saw... It's just what's in my head. It's nothing, really."

Lavander stared at her.

"You're kidding me! They're amazing. You're very talented."

The binder had many many pages covered all with different sketches. There were very realistic portraits of people, of places. Lavander stopped on the sketch of a man.

"It was my father," said Hermione.

"Was?" repeated Lavander.

"He died a few months ago."

"I'm very sorry."

"It's okay."

There was a moment of silence broken by the door opening suddenly.

"Oh. New girl's here."

The newcomer had spoken with a snobbish voice. Hermione turned around and found herself face to face with a dark-haired girl. She had steel-grey eyes and was only a bit taller than Hermione.

"Hello, Pansy," said Lavander, closing the binder and putting it back into the suitcase.

"I'm Parkinson, Pansy Parkinson, thirth with that name," she said, completely ignoring Lavander.

"Granger, Hermione Granger. I'm the only one with that name..."

Pansy raised an eyebrow and stared briefly at Lavander who was trying hard not to laugh, then turned back to Hermione.

"I guess I'll leave you two to... whatever you were doing then," she said sharply before leaving the room.

Lavander burst out laughing again. Hermione followed.

"Now I understand everything."

"Did you see her face?" said Lavander.

Talking and laughing, they unpacked all of Hermione's things who had decided it was time for her to put on her new uniform before dinner. It fitted her perfectly.

"Now you sit down," said Lavander, clapping her hands. "I'm gonna do your hair!"

Hermione laughed and sat down on Lavander's bed.

"Here, it's the rules. Uniform and hair very tidy. At first, it's quite annoying, but you'll get used to it. Oh, yeah, there's that other annoying thing... only girls. God, you don't know what I'd give to change that rule," she said desperately.

Hermione laughed.

"Okay, I get it you don't see boys often around here," she said.

"Boys? What's a boy?" joked Lavander. "I'm just kidding. That's true though. There's always those across the street, but well..."

"Those across the street?"

Lavander sat beside her new friend.

"Yes. St. Brutus'. There's only boys.

"I know, but isn't that a school for criminals?"

"Exactly, that's why we better just not think about it. McGonagall's very strict on that. And especially since... Well, just to say, at first, it wasn't that bad. We barely heard about them at all. It was very quiet. What happened behind those walls never got out. Until two years ago."

"What happened?"

"You must have heard about it. It was a massacre. Apparently, though no one really knows how, a student managed to bring a gun to school. And not a small gun at that. That's quite something. They've got a security system, you know, you wouldn't believe it! Well, during luch time, he entered the cafeteria and started shooting. There was six deaths I think and many many wounded. It was on the news for weeks and everything here was like... insane. There were news reporters everywhere, sneaking up to make interviews all the time, asking for testimonies. I'm surprised you never heard about it."

Hermione was only half-listening now. She'd stood up and was now watching out the window at the building across the street. A part of her wanted, more than anything, to discover what was hiding behind those walls.

"Mr Karkaroff had so much trouble keeping the school open. The education ministry really wanted to close everything. Everyone was so shaken by the events. Well, three weeks later, everything was back to normal. Mr Karkaroff's a pretty important man, I guess."

Hermione turned back to her friend, raising an eyebrow.

"Karkaroff? Who's that?"

"Igor Karkaroff. St. Brutus' headmaster. He's quite excentric, but arrogant like you wouldn't believe it. He comes here pretty often. Has tea with McGonagall. Did quite a scandal last year when he decided to replace Finnley St. Brutus' statue with his own. You gotta admit he's got guts."

"And you?" Hermione asked, carefully. "Did you see something?"

Lavander nodded.

"Yes. It was completely insane... We'd just started gym class..."

Hermione remembered visiting the gymnasium during the school visit. She'd noticed that it was very close to the entrance hall and had many large windows giving a pretty good view of St. Brutus'.

"First, we heard the alarms. It was very loud. So we stopped and watched, trying to make out what was happening. We thought maybe there was a fire somewhere in the building. We could see students running outside, panicked. Some of them were crying. Then the gardiens. Everywhere. And then the paramedics arrived. And you know what happened next..."

_"C'est horrible," _muttered Hermione to herself.

--It's horrible.--

"Horrible indeed." said Lavander, nodding as she took a piece of paper from Hermione's bedside table.

"It's nice that you're in sixth year too. So we have the same classes."

Hermione smiled. Then a bell rang from the hallway and Lavander stood up.

"Come on, we have to go down to dinner. I'll introduce you to some friends."

- - -

During the meal, Lavander informed Hermione that all the students were allowed to go out in the city during the weekends. They decided it was a good occasion to go shopping together.

"I'll set my alarm for 8 o'clock," said Lavander between mouthfuls. "So we'll have enough time. Oh, but before lunch, I'd like to go to the library. I need to check the archives for History class. "

"History class? That homework's only due in two weeks," said a voice behind Lavander.

They turned to see a girl about their age. She had long blond hair and big, dreamy blue eyes. She stared at them without blinking.

"Hello, Luna," said Lavander. "I know it's only due in two weeks, but I, unlike some people, don't like doing homework at the last minute. You may be the most brilliant girl I know, you're quite the procrastinator."

Luna smiled lightly.

"Does it bother you if I sit here?" she asked softly. "There's no place left anywhere and Millicient doesn't want me at her table. She keeps a seat for the witch."

"Millicient? She's the troll, isn't she?" asked Hermione smiling as she looked around.

"The tall brunnette over there, in the back," said Lavander.

Millicient was really tall and brown-haired, but she was way larger than Hermione and her hair was straight and ugly. Her snobbish face seemed out of place with her body. She wave briefly at Lavander when their eyes met and Lavander waved back then continued her meal. Hermione stared at her friend for a moment, wondering where she put all that food.

"Millicient Bulstrode," said Lavander. "She's from the same neighbourhood as Pansy and me. We were good friends before, but just stopped talking. And that's what it's like now. We still speak sometimes, but that's only because we go to the same school, I guess. Her mother was really sick and it's my father who removed her tumor. I think it's one of the only reasons she still shows a little bit of respect to my family. Well, that's the past" she finished, shrugging.

"Oh, I don't think I introduced myself," murmured Luna after a while, setting her fork down. "Hermione, I am Luna Lovegood. Normally, I'd be in fifth year, but I jumped a class. I would really like to have hair like yours. I would also like to be able to change my appearance at will, like magic powers you know. But only fairies have powers. I think I'm a bit too hopeful."

Hearing that, Hermione stared at her then looked back at Lavander who smiled and shrugged.

"Pleased to meet you," said Hermione sincerly.

"So, I was saying that I'd like to go to the library tomorrow. I heard they have..."

"You're going out tomorrow?" interrupted Luna in a shy whisper.

"Huh... yes, don't you?" asked Hermione.

"No. I don't think so. However, I would rather like to."

"Well, you can just come with us, we don't care," laughed Lavander. "You don't have to be so shy all the time. If you wanna come, just invite yourself!"

Luna smiled.


End file.
